


Two Years Too Long

by retsehcniwnaed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform, standford era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retsehcniwnaed/pseuds/retsehcniwnaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I haven't bothered you in two years!" But Sam had been at Stanford for four years when he said that. Hmm...sounds to me like Dean paid him a little, drunken visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Years Too Long

Sam woke up to sharp, heavy knocks on his dorm room door. "What the Hell?" He grumbled, and he shot his roommate a sleepy glare as he rolled onto his stomach and covered his head with his pillow. "Get up, you lazy dick, it's probably that girl you keep standing up."

"Which one?" He muttered sleepily into his mattress. Sam rolled his eyes, rolling out of the bed and padding towards the door.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," he said, not remotely loud enough for the person pounding on the door to hear him. He tied the drawstring tighter around his hips and scratched his chest, opening the front door.

"About fuckin' time."

"Dean?" Sam's heart soared and yet still sank at the sight of his brother, obviously drunk, and he looked half-crazed. 

"Dean, what are you doing here?"

"I'm comin' to get you, numb nuts, whasitlooklike?" He staggered in, using the door frame as a crutch. Sam stepped to he side, his arms braced to help Dean if he needed it.

"Dean. You're drunk."

"Yeh? And water's wet. So glad we 'ad this dicuzz'n." Dean smirked, all charm and wit, and Sam's breath stuttered. 

"C'mere you big jerk," Sam pulled him into the dorm, dropping him onto the threadbare moonchair. "Now, I'll go get you a glass of wa--hey!"

Dean had managed to wrap his arms around Sam's waist and pull him into his lap. He buried his face into Sam's neck, sloppily kissing the sensitive flesh behind his ear.

"Dean, stop," Sam said, half-heartedly pushing Dean's hands away. He was relentless, though, and he wrapped one arm tightly around Sam's waist while the other hand cupped his rapidly swelling groin.

Sam laid his head back and groaned quietly, resting his hand between Dean's legs. "Good boy," Dean growled, palming Sam a little harder, making Sam hiss.

"Feel good, baby boy?"

"Ungh...."

"Make you wanna come back home?"

"Dean, I--"

"Gonna suck my cock all the way to Kansas, Sammy?"

"Dean, stop, I'm not coming home."

Dean stopped, his hand stopped, his breath stopped, Sam could swear his heart stopped, and then suddenly Sam was being pushed to the floor, and Dean was standing over him.

"Why?

"Dean, I--"

"Sammy, I came all the way out to fucking California to get your ass now you're going to get your half-lawyer-ass into the car, or I'm gonna put you in it."

"Dean, stop it, if you were sober--"

"I don't need to be sober to kick your ass, little brother."

"I know that Dean, but--"

"Let's go."

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean!" Sam's outburst was met with silence, so he continued, voice softer, "You can't just tell me what to do. I make my own decisions now. I don't have to listen to you, or dad anymore, and it feels good. It feels great, actually."

Dean was still staring at him, and Sam rose to his feet, "I'm not coming home, Dean."

Dean's eyes watered, so yeah, he must be pretty wasted. "Sammy...please." Sam's heart broke as Dean's chin trembled, "I miss you so much, Sam."

"Dean it's only two more years..."

"Yeah, two more years of school. But then...then you're gonna meet some pretty girl. Probably already met'er. You're gonna fall in love--"

"No."

"Get married--"

"No, Dean..."

"Forget about me--"

"Dean, stop! There's not gonna be anybody else! Ever! I love you, okay?"

Dean was shaking his head, "I don't believe you, Sammy. Why should I? You deserve a nice girl to settle down with. You want that white picket fence, right?"

"Dean..."

"And I can't give that to you, Sam. I can't." He shrugged his shoulders, palms facing up. "I want that for you, but I don't want that for me,"

"Dean, wait,"

"No, I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I feel stupid." He walked towards the door, yanking it open, "You're either coming with me, right this second, or it's goodbye, Sam.."

"Dean, don't do this, please." Sam was crying now, too. This was more painful than the night he'd left, because now, Dean was leaving him.

"Apple-pie life, or me Sam."

"Why can't I--"

"You can't have both!" Dean roared, walking out, slamming the door behind him.

Sam crumpled to the floor, face buried in his hands.

"Why can't I at least pack?" He whispered, his interrupted question hanging uselessly in the air.


End file.
